


Ghosts of Christmases Past

by meetmeatthecoda



Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: Angst, Christmas Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Lizzington - Freeform, hints of agnesgate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 09:23:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13120821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meetmeatthecoda/pseuds/meetmeatthecoda
Summary: Written for 2017 Tumblr The Blacklist Secret Santa. Set 6 months after Liz wakes from her coma. Established Lizzington with hints of Agnesgate. Red and Liz are both battling demons from their pasts. Will it break them up or can they find their way back to each other for Christmas?





	Ghosts of Christmases Past

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AprilFeldspar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AprilFeldspar/gifts).



_“Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house…”_

Liz stands at the stove, stirring a saucepan full of water, cocoa, and sugar absentmindedly, listening to Red’s dulcet tones reading to Agnes in her bedroom. 

Christmas is in a week. 

Agnes, now nearing two and a half, is only aware of excitement in the air and impending presents. Her favorite bedtime story at the moment is “The Night Before Christmas”, regardless of the date, and Red is more than happy to indulge her by reading it night after night. 

He loves to spoil her. 

_“The children were nestled all snug in their beds…”_

Agnes has a very specific idea of which parent should read each book and “The Night Before Christmas” was designated Red’s five nights ago when Agnes asked for a “Santa story” and he pulled it off the shelf. She was asleep before the end, of course, (Red’s deep voice never failed to lull her to sleep within half an hour), but the beginning at least had stuck with her and she had asked for the story again the next night. 

And every night after. 

Liz expects that Red will be stuck reading it until at least Christmas day, if not longer, but she knows he won’t mind. He cherishes his surrogate father duties like she never thought he would.

Red.

Liz sighs a little dreamily and goes to fetch the milk from the fridge, snagging a measuring cup from a drawer on her way back to the stove.

Red and Liz had dived straight into a relationship not long after she woke up from her coma six months ago. Liz figures that the final tipping point had been a combination of Red taking such good care of Agnes while Liz couldn’t and him being there for every step of her recovery. She seemed to have woken up with a new appreciation for Red and everything he’s done for her over the years. And seeing the bond he had forged with Agnes in her absence just cemented the fact that she cared more for him than she ever thought she would. 

They have been together officially for only a few months but it feels to Liz like much longer. Their new relationship hadn’t felt new at all, simply moving from one level of intimacy to the next. It felt like the most natural thing in the world. They are now living together, the three of them, as normally as they can and they haven’t looked back since.

Red has become such a father to Agnes, filling a hole that Liz and Agnes hadn’t quite realized was there, and Liz can’t imagine someone better for them. He has been there every step of the way (sometimes more so than Liz) and has taken over all the fatherly duties that Agnes needed, from nighttime drug store runs to visits to the zoo to bedtime stories. 

_“When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter…”_

Liz certainly doesn’t mind Red taking over story time for the time being. Agnes had a long stint of “Guess How Much I Love You” and no one could read it to her except Liz and that had meant more to Liz than Agnes could ever realize. So, Liz figures it’s Red’s turn to read and it suits her just fine. It gives Liz some time to think. 

Things between her and Red have been truly wonderful in a way she has never experienced with anyone but lately things have been…off. Liz first noticed it around the first week of December, initially dismissing it as phase of Red’s, deciding not to worry about it. But now, a week before Christmas, Liz can’t deny it anymore. 

Red is being clingy.

He’s not only intruding on her personal boundaries and space but more so wanting to be nowhere but where she is. Ordinarily, Liz wouldn’t mind this at all. In fact, normally it would be the opposite.

Liz turns down the fire on the stovetop burner, continuing to stir the brown, sweet-smelling mixture, staring pensively at the swirling liquid.

It’s true that with her previous relationships, she would be the one to ask for space, pushing her partner away if they were too close too often. In some cases, that was the sole reason for her breakups. It had been a frequent problem with some of her early flings with high school and college boyfriends and even occasionally with Nik, who had a habit of overwhelming her. (That was half the reason she had gravitated toward Tom in the first place.) She hadn’t had this problem with Tom, however, who liked a fair amount of space himself. This fact was certainly one of the reasons she thought they were so perfectly matched. 

(How naïve she had been.) 

Liz truly not had thought that this clingy behavior that had so bothered her in her past relationships would be a problem with Red. In part, this was because from the moment they got together (and, if she was honest with herself, a fair amount of time before that), she didn’t want to be parted from Red. Perhaps it was all the death-defying things they had been through together or maybe the fact that they had spent so long dancing around each other, but they wanted to be together all the time. Liz knows that it’s still relatively early in the relationship, however much it may not feel like it, but she had felt that up to now, it was a sign of how strong her and Red’s relationship was: she wasn’t getting tired of him. 

Liz delighted in Red’s closeness and he seemed to do the same, as they spent time together literally whenever they could, either with Agnes or without. It didn’t matter where, when, or how; they just wanted to be together. 

_“With a little old driver, so lively and quick…”_

But then December hit and Red got very close very fast. And Liz is uneasy about it. She doesn’t like the fact that she feels this way. She likes feeling that he was never close enough, she’s happy that way. She’s angry at herself for wanting space and she certainly doesn’t want to hurt Red by telling him this.

Even so, this doesn’t feel like the other times she’s wanted to get away from a boyfriend. At those times, she had simply grow tired of them and wanted something new. This time, however, she feels distinctly ill at ease, like she’s fighting something and trying to find her way back to Red. Usually, he can sense when this happens and he backs off a little, trying to give her time and space to work things out herself. This happened many times after she awoke from her coma, when she simply needed time to think through the events that had changed her life so completely. But those mental blocks only lasted a few days at most and _this_ odd funk she found herself in was getting worse every day. 

And so was Red.

Liz continues to stir mechanically. She is using this story time to try and channel her inner psychologist (who has been dormant for far too long) and consider what is disturbing her, what is preventing her from accepting Red’s attention. What could possibly be different right now from the past few months when she has delighted in Red’s company? 

Well, it’s the holidays, for one thing. That can be stressful, of course, but Liz feels nothing but excitement, mostly for Agnes and their first Christmas together as a stable family unit. 

Hm.

Family unit. And first Christmas. That’s not exactly true, is it? Agnes is two and she’s had another Christmas before this one. It wasn’t very special, as things had been hectic at the time, what with work and Tom and all the drama that came with those things. Just a few presents and a brief celebratory dinner, mostly store bought. Nothing festive. In fact, Liz is rather glad that Agnes probably won’t remember it. Tom hadn’t even – 

Tom. 

_Oh._

That’s the difference, Liz realizes suddenly, the spoon she’s holding drifting to a stop in the pan. Why did it take her so long to realize that Tom isn’t here this Christmas? She realized on a conscious level, of course, that he was gone, and she’d accepted that long ago. Things had been wrong between her and Tom long before his death and Red had calmly explained the reasons behind his murder and Liz is well aware that it was partially his own fault. She had held on to some residual anger at his motives for putting her and Agnes in danger despite being warned repeatedly by Red to let things go but she had realized soon that there was no point. Tom was gone and at least they’d had a chance to make some peace before he’d died. He was out of their lives now and they were probably better for it. 

But, be that as it may, he hasn’t been gone for a whole year yet and Liz is apparently still feeling his absence during this time of year that had once been special to them. After all, for the four years before Agnes was born, she and Tom had been together every Christmas, celebrating as a married couple. Liz hadn’t known the truth about Tom at that point, how could she, and she had genuinely enjoyed those years with him. 

Now, the first Christmas after his death, she finally sees the Tom-shaped hole she has been trying to identify for days. It is not a gaping, raw thing. She’s not mourning him by any means - her mourning period for Tom was blessedly brief – and anyway the time for that has long since passed. This hole is a cold, dark thing, peaceful but still there, regardless of her current feelings, and apparently Liz still has some adjusting to do, as much as she may loath the necessity of it.

She feels better now, lets out a little breath she didn’t quite know she was holding in, but her uneasiness is nowhere near resolved. She has identified the problem but she has not addressed the issue (boy, she’s stretching her psych muscles now). What she really needs is time to herself to _think_ – 

But Liz is startled out of her revelations by a pair of familiar hands at her waist. She takes in a sharp breath purely out of surprise, and quickly relaxes into Red’s grip, feeling a certain amount of comfort from his touch.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” Red murmurs in her ear, his lips running lightly around the edge. 

“That’s okay,” Liz says, trying for lightness but feeling a little like she’s forcing the words out, trying to shake the lingering fog of her realizations. “Is Agnes asleep?”

“Yes. She almost made it to the end of the book tonight. St. Nicholas was just bounding down the chimney when she drifted off…”

Liz smiles, managing to relax at the mention of Agnes, leaning back into Red as his arms drift to wrap loosely around her waist. “You must know that thing by heart by now.”

“Pretty much,” Red mutters, chuckling a little. “But I don’t mind. That smells good by the way.” He adds, peering over Liz’s shoulder at the simmering hot chocolate in the pan. 

“Thanks,” Liz says. “I’m getting pretty good, I think. Haven’t burned a batch for a few nights.”

It has become rather a nightly holiday tradition of theirs, drinking hot chocolate together after Agnes has gone to sleep. It is a chance for them to relax at the end of the day, winding down from the day-long high that comes from caring for a two-year-old. Red has been particularly gracious in drinking even her early batches of hot chocolate where she somehow managed to scorch the chocolate before she even added any milk. 

But Red never complains.

“That’s right,” he says now. “You’re doing quite well. Improving in leaps and bounds, just as I knew you would. I think it will be hard to top last night’s batch though. It was the best yet.”

“Well, let’s see. I think this is ready. Can you grab the mugs?”

Red nods, squeezing her waist lightly before going to the cabinet to fetch their Christmas themed mugs, his with Santa Claus and hers with a snowman. Liz uses the free moment to try to shove her realizations about Tom to the back of her mind. She’ll deal with them later. 

This is her and Red’s time. 

Red carefully pours the hot chocolate in their mugs while Liz grabs the marshmallows she likes to add to her cocoa and heads to the couch, turning out the main lights on her way. Her and Red have taken to sitting tangled together under a blanket with their warm beverages, only the multicolored lights adorning the Christmas tree and the bright white string lights hung over the doorway illuminating them, enjoying the closeness the semi-darkness provides. They talk quietly together or sometimes just sit in silence, cuddling until they are sleepy enough to move to their bedroom. 

Red joins her now, letting her get settled under the blankets before handing her mug to her and then making himself comfortable, sitting very close to her and taking her hand. They enjoy their drinks mostly in comfortable silence, each lost in their own thoughts. It is enjoyable for the first little while (Liz _has_ missed Red today) but after their mugs are empty and moved to the coffee table and Red pulls Liz close to press his nose into her hair, Liz can’t help but feel a little uncomfortable. 

The longer they sit there, the more her unease pushes at her, the more she longs to be alone to sort through everything she’s feeling. The sooner she deals with it, the sooner it will be over and she can enjoy her time with Red as she usually does. But Red is so close to her and no matter how far she tries to surreptitiously tries to move from him, he simply closes the distance with a content hum. 

He won’t stop crowding her. 

Liz desperately tries to push the unease away, at least for tonight.

She can deal with it all tomorrow.

* * *

As it turns out, she can’t.

She wakes in bed with Red wrapped around her. She showers with Red at the sink brushing his teeth. She feeds Agnes with Red sitting next to her. She eats breakfast while Red plays with Agnes at the table. She has playtime with Agnes on the floor with Red sitting above them on the couch. She reads on the couch during Agnes’ nap time with Red’s head in her lap. She entertains Agnes while he fixes snack time in the kitchen. She takes Agnes on a walk in the park with Red’s arm wrapped around them both at all times. She makes dinner while Agnes is in her bouncy chair with Red cutting and chopping and simmering at her side. And Liz would have had story time to herself but Agnes requested both of them in her room that night and how could Liz deny her baby girl? Then Red and Liz have their hot chocolate and its bed again, where Red pulls her into his arms and doesn’t let go until morning. 

Liz can’t believe it.

The next day is much the same except for Liz’s rising irritation and anxiety. Red won’t leave her alone for a second and she doesn’t know why. He has never been like this before, going out of his way to spend literally every second at least in the same room as her, if not touching in some way. Liz knows she would be flattered and grateful for the attention if she didn’t have her huge unresolved issues nagging at her all the time. If she could just get away from Red for a few hours, maybe she could sort out her confusing feelings. 

Liz ponders while giving Agnes her bath for the night, Red sitting on their bed where he can see them both through the open bathroom door. Liz alternates between playfully splashing her giggling girl and desperately trying to figure out what she can do to be alone tomorrow. What could she possibly do five days before Christmas and where…

Christmas. 

Shopping.

Liz almost smacks herself in the forehead. Of course. She can go Christmas shopping. At least, that’s what she’ll tell Red she’s doing. She’s already got everything for Agnes, tucked safely in the closet, and she’s got Red’s present, hidden carefully in her nightstand. 

But Red doesn’t know that. 

She’ll tell him she’s going shopping for him. That should unglue him from her side for at least a few hours.

Red loves surprises.

She’ll take Agnes as well. She likes the mall and Liz could use the touchstone of her happy daughter in her arms while she’s sorting through her confusing feelings. 

Yes. That’s what she’ll do.

* * *

“But where are you going?” Red is pacing anxiously around the living room, holding Agnes tightly in his arms. Liz watches him from kitchen where she is slowly and methodically cleaning their breakfast plates, completely baffled by his behavior. 

“I told you, out,” says Liz, trying her best to be patient. “It is almost Christmas, you know. I’m allowed to have _some_ secrets.” She turns to smile teasingly at him but he doesn’t meet her gaze. She frowns. 

“Well, why can’t I go with you?” Red demands, a little rudely.

Liz turns back to the plate she’s washing, channeling her annoyance into the sponge, scrubbing a little harder than necessary. 

“Jeez, Red, normally you can read between the lines a little better than this. I’m going Christmas shopping for _you_ , that’s why you can’t come, okay?”

She figured he’d perk up a little at that but for some reason it only makes him pace faster, striding back and forth across the small room now, pulling Agnes closer to him and stroking her hair. Agnes, who has just had play time and is almost ready for a nap, can sense Red’s uneasiness and is starting to fuss. Red rubs her back distractedly and she settles down a little but Liz can still see that pout on her lips that warns of incoming tears. 

“But why can’t Dembe or Baz go out and make your purchases for you?” he presses.

Liz grits her teeth, now truly starting to lose her patience and probably taking a layer off the plate in the process.

“Because I don’t know what I’m getting you yet. I’m just gonna wander around the mall until I’m inspired or something, okay? Why are you being so difficult about this?” she snaps.

At that, Red whips around. “ _I’m_ being difficult? Why are _you_ being so cagey?”

Liz gives up and tosses the plate in the sink, turning to face him. “I’m not being cagey! I’m being honest, I’m just unprepared for Christmas, is that a crime?” she’s raised her voice without realizing and now Agnes is starting to whimper in Red’s arms. 

Red’s eyes flash with anger. 

“I just don’t think there’s any reason for you to go alone so why can’t –”

“I just don’t understand why you think I need protection everywhere I go so I don’t –”

Their voices start to overlap as they get going and Agnes starts to cry.

“God damn it, Red!” Liz yells over them both, frustrated and upset. “You are _smothering_ me!”

Red, who had been about to fire back with something, snaps his jaw shut, looking at her with curiously accusing, wet eyes. 

“All right then,” he murmurs, frighteningly quiet all of a sudden. “Here.” He moves toward Liz and hands her Agnes who is now beside herself, wailing, with tears streaming down her face. 

(Liz has to ignore the tug in her heart at how gently he handles Agnes, despite the anger he obvious feels, carefully pulling her little hands free where they are gripping his shirt and placing her lovingly in Liz’s arms, a hand ghosting soothingly over her hair before he moves away.)

“I’ll just give you some room to breathe, then, shall I?”

And he grabs his coat and hat and walks right out the door. 

Liz barely makes it to the couch before she collapses, the anger swiftly draining out of her, Agnes crying into her shoulder. Liz presses kisses into her daughter’s hair and tries to console her but it’s difficult. 

Liz is crying right along with her. 

* * *

Liz holds out for three days, moping around the apartment feeling sorry for herself while, at the same time, trying to console Agnes, who starts asking for Red the moment she wakes up the next day. 

“Red, Red!”

“Red’s not here, baby, he had to go away.”

“Chris-muss?”

“I don’t know if he’ll be back for Christmas, hon.”

And Liz has to quickly distract Agnes with a toy or a snack before she starts crying.

Liz uses the first day to sort through her feelings, eventually, without any fanfare, reconciling with Tom’s absence while lying alone in bed that night. She simply realizes that different does not necessarily mean bad, and just because Tom isn’t there doesn’t mean that she can’t enjoy the holidays with who she has around her: Red and Agnes. She doesn’t need to feel any guilt over the fact that Tom is gone and that fact certainly shouldn’t keep her from enjoying the holidays with her family. She immediately feels better, having thought things through and put her mind at ease, the only wishing that she could have had just a few hours to figure that out before, and then she wouldn’t have exploded at Red.

Red…

Liz is still confused about his clingy behavior over the last few weeks and she spends the next two days pondering why that could be. She is unfocused with Agnes the whole time, her baby having to pat her cheek or cry out to get her attention. Having fixed her own problem, she is now occupied with trying to solve Red’s, and spends the day going backwards through their interactions for the past few weeks to the best of her memory. What there something she said or done that could have triggered his behavior?

_Think like a psychologist, Liz, come on now._

But for the life of her, Liz can’t figure it out. 

She continues to think in circles even after Agnes is tucked in bed for the night, feeling as though there’s something very obvious she’s missing. Liz mentally examines their fight, looking for something that could have set him off, while slowly and methodically cleaning the living room, putting Agnes’ toys away. 

She’d given no hint of uncertainty about their relationship that she can remember, at least not intentionally. And if Red had had any concerns, he certainly would have voiced them. And obviously Agnes didn’t do anything to worry him, she’s an angel, what harm could she do? Liz remembers only too vividly how tightly he clutched Agnes as he paced when they were fighting, almost as if he was afraid to let her go, as if something would – 

Liz freezes, half bent over reaching for a toy, the three she was already holding tumbling back to the floor. 

Of course.

Red was afraid something would happen to them. 

Because it’s Christmas.

_Oh, Liz, you idiot._

She’d been so preoccupied with her own stupid feelings that she hadn’t even stopped to consider how Red was feeling during the holiday season.

He has ghosts of his own, after all. 

His poor wife and daughter, those awful events so many years ago, the fact that he had never truly recovered. And this is his first Christmas with Liz and Agnes as a family. Of course, he’s paranoid, terrified probably, of something happening to them. That’s why he didn’t want Liz to go anywhere without him, why he kept Agnes in sight at all times unless he knew she was tucked safely in bed, why he kept physical contact with Liz every second he was able to. It is comforting to him to be with them, to be at ease, to know they are safe. And how can she blame him? As irrational as his fears may be, there is obviously a legitimate reason for them and, above all, it is just because he loves them.

He just loves them.

Oh, Red. 

He doesn’t like to talk about that awful Christmas Eve all those years ago but –

Christmas Eve. 

_Tonight_ is Christmas Eve.

Oh, _Red_.

Liz abandons the toys and whips around, frantically looking for her phone. She’d gone and pushed Red away when literally the only thing he wanted was to be close to her and Agnes in the days leading up to Christmas. And, here it is, Christmas Eve, and he’s sitting alone somewhere, wondering, worrying – 

_Oh_ , what has she done?

Liz snatches up her phone and dials. 

* * *

Red swirls the amber liquid in his tumbler, slumped in a worn armchair in front of the large window in his hotel room, all the lights off, staring fixedly at Lizzie’s apartment building. 

He hasn’t left this room for three days. 

He knows it’s ridiculous. And paranoid and unhealthy and more than a little creepy. But he can’t help it. Staring at her building is the only thing that quells the otherwise relentless anxiety that radiates through his body at being away from Lizzie and Agnes. 

This time of the year has always been hard for him, ever since _that year_ , and here, now, with Lizzie and Agnes and this fresh start he has somehow been granted, he can’t help but worry about them. 

He is so afraid.

He has nightmares, both awake and asleep it seems, about coming back to their apartment, expecting to be greeted by a giggling Agnes and a smiling Lizzie – Christmas presents in the car – feet of snow – nothing but _blood_ – 

No.

Red grimaces and squeezes his eyes shut, trying in vain to ward off the unwelcome thoughts. He can’t lose them. He just _can’t_. 

He was aware in the back of his mind that he was crowding Lizzie, being too nosy, pushing too close, holding too long, but he couldn’t help it. If Lizzie is there, with him, next to him, wrapped up in him, no harm can come to her. And Agnes, _Agnes_ , with her just a room away, he almost felt okay again, able to breathe, able to relax. 

Almost.

But he was so absorbed in his own past, his own demons, his own comfort, he gave no thought to Lizzie.

_Lizzie._

She has been through so much in the past year, a ten-month long coma, becoming a widow, losing almost a year of Agnes’ life, to say nothing of her own, and then having to re-adjust to everything when she woke up. Red is endlessly proud of her and he had foolishly assumed that after six months, she had made peace with things and settled into a rhythm and a routine. 

With him. 

But, of course, the holidays would be hard for her as well. Her father is gone and this is the first Christmas without her ex-husband and only her second with Agnes. Lizzie has every right to be overwhelmed, who wouldn’t need a little space for all that? 

She just wanted _space._

And Red had given her the opposite. No wonder she was feeling claustrophobic.

God, he _was_ smothering her. 

Red downs the rest of his scotch bitterly. He wants to call and apologize but Lizzie is probably still angry. He doesn’t want to encroach any further, he should wait and –

_Ring, ring._

Red is up and out of his chair within seconds, racing for his phone, panic coursing through him. Has something happened? Did he miss something? What if – 

His heart rate spikes as he checks the caller ID and sees Lizzie’s name flashing there.

Oh, god.

He presses accept as quickly as he can.

“Hello?” he croaks.

“Red,” he hears Lizzie breath.

He tries not to cry at the sound of her voice.

“Lizzie, are you alright?” he gasps.

“Yes, yes, I’m fine and so is Agnes. Everything’s fine, Red, we’re fine,” she sounds very patient and kind, much more so than the last time they talked. Red can feel himself relaxing in a way he hasn’t been able to in three days. 

“Good,” he sighs, relieved.

He missed her.

“Then, why are you calling?” he questions after a moment, confused.

“Well, I’ve done a lot of thinking over the past few days and I realized some things and…listen, I’d really like to talk. Do you think you could come over?”

“Yes,” he blurts without thinking. “I mean, yes, uh, I can be there in…ten minutes?”

“Perfect,” Lizzie says and he wonders if that’s a smile he hears in her voice. “I’ll see you in a bit then?”

“Okay,” he murmurs and hangs up. 

He gets to see Lizzie.

* * *

Red skids to a halt in front of what he hopes is still _their_ apartment door and takes a moment to collect himself before knocking.

The door opens even before he has fully drawn his hand away and there is Lizzie, looking soft and wonderful in yoga pants and one of his sweaters, her eyebrows knitted in something that looks like concern. 

Red stands there for a moment, staring, drinking her in, feeling the anxiety and paranoia draining from his limbs. 

“Lizzie, I’m –”

But he gets nothing more out before she lurches forward and throws her arms around him. He lets out the air in his lungs in a huff, more out of surprise and true physical impact and takes a moment to breath in her familiar scent before wrapping his arms around her the way he’s wanted to for the last three days.

He’s home.

They stand there for a moment, in the hallway of their apartment building, just hugging. 

It’s wonderful.

Eventually, Lizzie slowly and reluctantly pulls away and takes his hand, tugging him gently into the apartment. Red doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of the feeling that washes over him as he steps over the threshold, knowing this is where they’re safe and happy, the three of them. Lizzie shuts the door and starts to lead him to the couch. He sees a few of Agnes’ toys still scattered on the floor from playtime. 

Agnes.

Red feels his chest ache at the thought of his little girl and he pulls Lizzie to a stop in the middle of the living room. She turns to look at him questioningly and Red just stares at her, pleading. She understands immediately and turns without a word, still holding his hand, towards Agnes’ room. Red squeezes her hand in silent thanks as they walk quietly down the hallway. 

Lizzie eases Agnes’ bedroom door open and gestures for Red to go inside. He leans in tentatively at first, another flash of fear for another daughter rocketing through him, but Lizzie is still holding his hand and everything is okay. 

Red leaves Lizzie in the doorway and moves silently into the room, taking in the wonderful sight of little Agnes asleep in her pink big-girl bed, her stuffed fish clutched under one arm and her blond curls tangled on her pillow. Her face is pressed endearingly into the pillow, her mouth open as she sleeps peacefully. Her pink nightlight ebbs and flows gently in the corner, illuminating her precious features at slow, even intervals. The effect is very calming. 

(Of course, it’s meant for Agnes but it does wonders for Red as well.)

He moves closer and ever-so-gently pushes Agnes’ tousled hair out of her face. She gives a little sigh in her sleep and rolls over and Red takes the opportunity to pull her purple comforter over her shoulders where it has slipped down. 

(She may not biologically be his daughter but it doesn’t matter.

He loves her so.)

Red can’t help but lean in and press a quick kiss to the top of her head before turning to leave, catching sight of Lizzie watching, teary-eyed, from the hall. Red smiles at her, trying to convey all of his love and gratitude in that one expression, and takes her hand again, tugging her away from Agnes’ room and pulling the door halfway closed as he does so.

“Come on,” he murmurs and leads Lizzie back to the living room.

They sink down next to each other on the couch and it’s only a second before Lizzie is wrapping her arms around him, practically climbing onto his lap to hold him. He sighs and presses his face into her neck, feeling more at ease then he has in days.

“Thank you, Lizzie,” he says quietly, not exactly sure what he’s thanking her for. 

(Probably everything.)

“You don’t need to thank me,” she whispers, and he’s not exactly sure what she’s referring to. 

(Hopefully everything.)

They snuggle for a few minutes more before Red sighs and gently pulls back from her. She looks adorably put out for a moment before remembering that she asked him over to talk and yet they’ve only said a few words. She nods to herself and moves away a little, more on her own couch cushion now, but still reassuringly pressed against him. 

“Lizzie,” he starts. “I’m so sorry that –”

But, once again, he doesn’t get far because Lizzie presses her fingers to his lips to stop him. He frowns lightly at her. Why won’t she let him apologize?

“No, Red,” she says. “You have nothing to apologize for. I was in the wrong and I’m a fool for not realizing it sooner. I’m so sorry.”

Red starts to shake his head but Lizzie won’t move her fingers.

“No,” she says firmly. “I was completely pre-occupied with how I was feeling, trying to process all the changes that have happened within the last year and how they made the holidays different from previous ones and stupid stuff like that. I just wanted space to think and all I knew was that you were crowding me and I gave no thought as to why that might be. I didn’t even stop to think about Christmas and the significance that holiday holds for you. If I had just tried to be a little more observant and caring towards my partner, none of this would have happened. The only thing you were worried about was our safety and you just wanted to be near us and I _kicked you out_ –”

She can’t continue, her eyes filling up with tears, but she doesn’t need to. Red has heard enough.

“Lizzie,” he murmurs, pressing kisses into her hair as the tears spill over and race down her cheeks. “Lizzie, don’t cry. You weren’t to know, it’s all right, Lizzie.”

“I made you _leave_!” she gasps, wiping her eyes.

“I didn’t go far,” he whispers, wiping her tears away with his thumbs. “It’s okay, Lizzie, I forgive you.” 

She gives a little hiccup at that but seems to accept it and her tears slow to a stop. 

Red is glad.

(He can’t stand to see Lizzie cry, least of all because of him.)

He gives her a moment to calm down before giving her a final kiss on the cheek and taking a breath.

“And now it’s my turn.” 

She is about to protest but he quickly presses his hand to her mouth like she did to him, smiling teasingly at her. She rolls her eyes but he can feel her mouth pull up in a grin beneath his fingers and she sits quietly, waiting for him to speak.

“I’m sorry as well, Lizzie,” he begins. “I was also pre-occupied with my own demons and I didn’t think for a second that you would be dealing with things too right now. You were completely right to want space to process things because so much has happened in the past year. And this is your first relatively calm Christmas with all of these changes and I should have known things would be hard for you. I was thoughtless and rude, Lizzie, and I’m sorry.”

Lizzie smiles sadly. “It’s okay, I’ve already forgiven you. Now I just want to spend Christmas together.” She cups his neck and scratches her fingernails lightly over his scalp, the way that she knows he loves, and he hums contentedly, his eyes drifting shut. 

“I suppose we could’ve avoided all of this if we’d just been open with each other about our feelings, huh?”

“I suppose,” Red murmurs, opening his eyes and bringing his fingers up to play with a lock of her hair. “But arguments and miscommunication are part of a relationship. Frankly, I think we were a little overdue. Things had been going frighteningly well between us, don’t you agree?” he questions teasingly, grinning at her.

Liz laughs at that, throwing her head back, glorious in her happiness, and Red can’t believe he didn’t notice how long it had been since he’d seen her smile. Red chuckles along with her, his deep voice complimenting her lighter one.

They fit so perfectly.

“Yes, I think I’d have to agree,” she says eventually, patting his chest lovingly.

He smiles and looks over her shoulder at the Christmas tree standing majestically in the corner of the room. As his gaze moves to the piles of neatly wrapped presents underneath, an idea occurs to him. 

Liz watches as his mouth slowly pulls up at the corners in a smile.

“What?” she asks, curiously, touching one corner gently with the tip of her finger. 

Red turns his gaze back to her and takes her hand from his face, pressing a kiss to each finger in turn. 

“What would you say to exchanging presents now?”

Lizzie’s eyebrows raise in surprise. 

“Now? But it’s only Christmas Eve!”

Red glances at his watch. “Actually, it’s 12:23am, so technically it’s Christmas day already. And if we open our gifts now, we can let Christmas morning be all Agnes’. I know how dreadfully excited she is.”

Red sees Lizzie’s lips purse in that familiar, disapproving way of hers but he sees her eyes twinkle at the same time and he knows she’s already decided. 

“You spoil that girl, you know,” she says, playfully frowning at him, trying to pretend that the idea of Red spoiling her daughter isn’t completely and utterly endearing to her. 

“Of course,” he answers simply, shrugging.

She shakes her head, smiling at him. She hasn’t said yes yet, though they both know she will, so, just for fun, he lids his eyes and pushes his mouth into that pout he knows she can’t refuse.

“That’s not fair!” Lizzie cries indignantly, but she presses a quick kiss to his pouty lips anyway. “Oh, alright!” she sighs, pretending to be put out but she can’t quite hold back the giggle that escapes when Red bounds off the couch, excited, to retrieve her present from under the tree.

Red plucks a long, slender box wrapped in gold paper off the top of the biggest pile and gently carries it back to the couch. He hands it to Lizzie. 

“For you,” he says softly, lovingly. 

Lizzie blushes prettily and carefully peels the paper off to unveil a jewelry box. 

“Red…” she murmurs, before she’s even seen it. 

She slowly opens the box to reveal a beautiful, delicate, silver, heart-shaped locket, engraved with tiny, hand-painted flowers and vines. Lizzie gasps quietly and puts a hand to her mouth, her eyes filling with tears again.

“Open it,” Red murmurs in that same low tone of voice.

Lizzie sniffs weakly and takes a fortifying breath before carefully opening the locket. She gasps again at what she sees and she can’t keep the tears from falling his time, crying openly, pressing a hand over her mouth.

On the right side of the locket is a tiny perfectly fitted photograph. Lizzie took it a few months after she’d woken up from her coma and promptly proclaimed it was her favorite picture. 

(In that instant, four months before Christmas, Red knew he had his gift for Lizzie.)

The photograph, candid but beautiful, is of Red and Agnes, who was almost two at the time. They were outside in the garden and Red is holding her, propped up in his arms, her blonde curls framing her face beautifully, while she points happily at a flower. 

Red remembers the day perfectly, Agnes asking to be picked up to see the pretty pink hibiscus blooming on a bush high above her head. Red had picked her up and told her all about how flowers open like that to see the sun and once they are nice and warm, they go away again to sleep. 

He didn’t know that Lizzie was standing off to the side, her phone in her hand, snapping such a perfect photo. 

(It is his favorite.) 

Red sees Lizzie’s gaze drift to the left side of the locket, where there is an inscription in French: _“Ma vie, mon coeur…”_

“What does it mean?” Lizzie breathes. 

“ _My life, my heart_ …” Red whispers back. “I thought it appropriate.”

Liz closes her eyes and reaches for him blindly, knowing he’ll catch her.

(He always catches her.)

She kisses him a little desperately and he responds in kind, his hands gripping her waist tightly. 

God, he loves her.

They break apart with a gasp. “Thank you,” she whispers, sounding a little broken. Red simply rubs his nose against hers, touching their lips together once again gently. 

They sit together for another quiet, peaceful minute before Lizzie surprises him by huffing a quiet little laugh.

“What is it?” he asks curiously.

“I feel my present will rather pale in comparison,” Lizzie mutters, smiling a little sadly, disentangling from him and wiping her eyes.

“You didn’t need to get me –”

“Shut up, Red.” 

He smiles.

“I’m sure I’ll love it.”

“That’s better,” she grins fondly at him. “It’s in our room, I’ll be right back.” 

Red watches as she stands, straightens her sweater, and gives him a final loving smile before turning and hurrying back to their room. He watches her go in something like wonder. He doesn’t have to wait long before she is coming back, carrying a rectangular package, wrapped in green paper, slightly larger and bulkier than the jewelry box she’d just unwrapped. 

“Hmm, whatever could this be…” he says playfully, taking it from her as she sits back down on the couch and drapes herself over him. 

“Well, gee, it looks like you may have to unwrap it to find out,” she teases. He shoots her a look that makes her giggle and he can’t resist a quick poke to her side that makes her squeal. 

“Let’s see…” he turns back to the package and peels off the paper gently, feeling the odd bulky shape beneath the wrapping. “What…”

He trails off as a beautiful, gilded picture frame is revealed and he gasps, distracted by the spectacular quality of it.

“Lizzie…” he breathes, trailing his finger along the edge of the frame. “It’s –”

But then he actually looks at the photograph in the gorgeous frame and his words dry up in his mouth. He almost laughs at the irony: it is a picture of Lizzie and Agnes. 

(The fact that he and Lizzie’s gifts to one another were pictures of them with Agnes makes his heart actually ache and swell in his chest.)

It is a beautiful photo and, just like Lizzie’s, he remembers the day it was taken. It was during the first month Lizzie had woken up and she and Agnes were still getting reacquainted with one another. Agnes was about one and a half at the time and the three of them were outside enjoying the sun, Red and Agnes on a beach blanket in the grass and Lizzie laying in a hammock watching them. Agnes had looked up at her mother, beautiful in the sun and swinging lightly in the breeze, and used Red to stand up and walk right over to her, grabbing onto the hammock’s edge for balance when she got there. 

The small tug got Lizzie’s attention and she had picked Agnes up and sat her in her lap. There, the mother and daughter had just looked at one another, Agnes staring in something like wonder and Lizzie in something that was definitely love. They both looked beautiful in the dappled sunlight shining through the trees above them and Red was already fumbling with his phone, trying to open the camera app, when Agnes had leaned forward and put both her tiny hands on either side of Lizzie’s face. Lizzie had looked momentarily surprised and then her face split into a gorgeous smile. Agnes had giggled in response and that’s when Red snapped the picture. 

Mother and daughter sharing a tender moment. 

(This is Red’s other favorite.)

“I thought you could add it to your collection in your Bethesda apartment,” Lizzie says quietly to him. “I know how much you love your photos.” 

The tears are falling before Red even realizes it and Lizzie is leaning forward to kiss them away. He quickly turns and wraps her up in his arms. 

“Thank you so much, Lizzie, I _love_ it,” he breathes into her ear. 

“I’m so glad,” she whispers back, rubbing his back in soothing circles that he never wants to stop. He pulls back after a long moment and they just stare at each other.

(He wonders briefly if he has ever been happier, than here with Lizzie and their daughter.)

“Well, that’s enough crying for one night, I think, don’t you?” Lizzie says after an appropriate amount of time, chipper and giggly, effectively lightening the tender moment.

“Yes, I rather agree,” Red sighs, leaning back in the sofa with a long-suffering sigh. “God, I’m exhausted.”

“Me too. But I’m not tired,” Liz says idly.

“Me neither.”

There is a beat of silence.

“Want some hot chocolate?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

Lizzie giggles in that way he loves and hurries off to make the hot chocolate while he cleans up the used wrapping paper and takes their presents to their room, putting Lizzie’s necklace on her dresser with her other jewelry and his photo on his nightstand so he can look at it while falling asleep tonight.

(He thinks if he ever stops looking at it, it will be something of a Christmas miracle.)

Within a few minutes, they have reconvened in the living room with their hot chocolate and blankets, the main lights off and the tree lights on. 

Red is about to settle down on the couch when Lizzie suddenly points to the window in excitement.

“Look, it’s snowing!”

Red turns to look, smiling at her child-like enthusiasm. He can only imagine what Agnes will be like in the morning.

(He can’t wait.)

“It’s beautiful,” he says quietly. “Should we watch?”

“Yeah,” says Lizzie, smiling at him.

“Come here,” he says and beckons to her.

Lizzie hurries over and takes a moment to get comfortable, ending up leaning back against Red’s chest, sitting snugly in between his legs, while they both face the window, warm under their blankets, sipping their drinks and watching the snow fall. 

Red finds Lizzie’s hand under the blankets and she holds on tight. He presses a kiss to her hair. 

“I love you,” he whispers to her.

“I love you too,” she whispers back and his heart swells. 

They’ve acknowledged their ghosts and they made it through this holiday together, stronger than ever, and here they sit, happy and content, making new Christmas memories.

“Merry Christmas, Lizzie.”

“Merry Christmas, Red.”

He can’t wait for next year.


End file.
